


The Returned

by Vertolina



Series: The Returned [1]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Almost everyone is dead, Alternate Universe - Future, But that's just the beginning, Daddy Issues, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Kidnapping, Lucifer has no idea what he's getting himself into, Lucifer is all sorts of terrified, Really Domestic, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-02 04:46:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11502060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vertolina/pseuds/Vertolina
Summary: Almost two hundred years in the future every human Lucifer has cared about is long dead, but dear old Dad has allowed them to return to their friend, if that's what they wanted. Dan and Chloe take turns coming back to Earth in new bodies with no memories of their past reincarnations and the hope that their paths will cross with the Devil's.





	1. Day Zero

**Author's Note:**

> Did you know that Kevin Alejandro stares in a series called 'The Returned'? I found out last night.  
> I thought about taking a break from writing, but this fic just hit me so... There's that. :D
> 
> Excuse the mistakes you'll find!  
> And please, tell me your thoughts about this silly little story!

_A thousand six hundred thirty nine,_ he counted, slowly rolling out of bed. Four years and six months since Chloe’s soul had been taken from him… again. Roughly twenty years until Dan’s crosses his path for the third time… if he was lucky.

He yawned, shuffling to the bar for his mandatory pick-me-up after a tough night. _Foursomes used to be funnier,_ he mused, pouring himself a glass of the first alcoholic beverage he laid his eyes on.

Their souls needed rest – he knew that. The deal was more than he expected, more than he ever dared to dream of. And yet it wasn't enough.

She’d come back as Sebastian – a PETA activist and a Goodwill Ambassador, working on the behalf of the United Nations. He chuckled at the memory of the passion, burning in his beloved’s eyes at the very mention of a charity event. There had been times he’d wished her soul had come back just for him; times when he’d cursed the world for stealing the little time they had together. But to voice those thoughts would have been to chain her spirit. So he’d spent the decades they shared, cherishing every little moment until the day Heaven had claimed her back.

And now he waited.

It was a cruel thing – to have your heart always yearning; always mourning someone’s lost. And yet it was the greatest mercy – that flickering light of hope ahead. He could only imagine the arrangements they’d made, splitting their time between Heaven and him. They came to Earth with clear minds, oblivious to who they used to be and what they used to mean to him. Only the glow in their eyes was giving away the old spirits they truly were. And he searched for it in the gaze of every stranger.

“Leaving so soon?” one of his bed mates pouted, watching him get dressed.

“I have to go to work, darling,” he kissed the creature goodbye, knowing he’d never see her again. “I’m sure the three of you can entertain yourselves without me.”

He’d come back to LA and Lux. A hundred and sixty seven years had passed since the infamous Lucifer Morningstar had opened the nightclub and those who had heard the stories had assumed the young and eccentric club owner was a fan or – in the best case scenario – a distant relative of the charming old devil.

Humanity hadn’t changed, despite the progress, the wars, the thousand shallow differences occurring on the surface. Same hopes and dreams; same fears and desires; same sins. And slowly time had lost its meaning to him. He measured it in the sound of heartbeats – lifetimes of joy and then nothingness of empty days… until the clock resets one more time.

His best friend had been the first to come back. He'd returned as Matt – a cop with astonishing career, beautiful wife and three not very annoying children. Lucifer could still hear his own burst of laughter when he’d realized that Dan had been reborn as a less douchey version of himself. Just like he could remember the salty taste of tears as Azrael had come for him too early than he’d wished to say goodbye. If he'd know, if he'd looked for him, then perhaps they would have had more than just a couple of years...

The Devil shook his head, casting away the rueful thoughts, imagining the life the man was probably leading right now. He pictured a boy refusing to take his Halloween cop costume off, claiming that one day he’d be the best policeman to ever live, and chuckled fondly. The voice of reason was whispering in his head that it was still too early to hope his friend would walk through the precinct door, but Lucifer had already arranged a job for himself at the LAPD as a civilian consultant, patiently waiting for Dan 3.0 to stumble into his life.

“Thank you for gracing us with your presence, princes!” the detective, he was working with, greeted him as he arrived at the crime scene. Peter was an aging widower, whose main source of entertainment was his job and his ridiculous partner who he loved like a son. “A robbery gone wrong,” the man pointed at the two bodies and shrugged. “A bit boring, I know. But before you start whining, just remember that these are human beings who deserve justice just as much as the poor sods who’d been killed… _spectacularly._ ”

“Yeah, yeah,” the Devil rolled his eyes, fishing the flask out of his pocket. “What’s that dreadful screeching?” He frowned when an unholy cry echoed from one of the parked vehicles.

“The baby.” Peter shook his head mournfully. “Poor kid. These are his parents,” he sniffed, nodding at the young couple in their feet. “The social worker should be here any minute now.”

While the man was talking, a rookie cop, holding what seemed to be a screaming pillow with legs, gestured at them to come closer, desperation written on his face.

“I don’t know what to do,” the man huffed, trying to pass his burden to Lucifer.

“No, thanks!” The fallen angel made a step back, resisting the urge to run in the opposite direction.

Suddenly, the child ceased his attempts to deafen everyone within a ten-mile radius and his head tilted in Lucifer’s direction.

“I think he likes your voice,” the rookie cop beamed stepping closer to the tall man. “Keep talking.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Anything. Just as long as he’s quiet.”

“Look at you both so petrified,” Peter chuckled, casting a glance at the young men, before taking the child in his arms. “The little fella won’t bite you.”

“You don’t know that!” Lucifer protested and the little boy’s eyes finally found his face, round grey irises staring right into his soul.

“Dan?!”


	2. Day One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer has an important decision to make

A ray of sunlight seeped through the curtain, announcing the end of the sleepless night he’d had.

 _One_ , he whispered, running a hand through his hair, eyes still absently staring at the ceiling. He remembered the first time he’d lost them – the emptiness that had followed; the heartbreak; the despair. One by one they’d found peace in the paradise he could never reach, each taking away a small spark of the light, burning within his own chest, leaving him an empty shell, a shadow of the man he used to be.

Dan had been the first to abandon his mortal flesh. He’d gone quietly over night without a warning or farewell. He’d left his loved ones – his daughter and her children, his second wife and Chloe, even his goddamned dog – with the unspoken promise that one day they’d meet again. But right there, at the funeral, staring at the open casket as everyone was whispering their goodbyes _for now,_ Lucifer had realized the true finality of that parting and of those that were to come.

“Well, you look pathetic,” Maze observed with a smirk while entering the bedroom. “Couldn’t find anyone interesting enough to keep you warm during the night?”

“I was… reminiscing,” Lucifer mumbled, rolling out of the bed.

“You know that’s never a good idea.” The demon studied his features, her brows furrowing at the tormented expression of his eyes. “What happened? Is it that old sack you’ve been working with?”

The fallen angel shook his head. “No. Peter’s fine.”

“Then what is it?”

“Dan’s back.”

“So soon?” Maze chuckled, her eyes widening in surprise. “You didn’t screw it up like the last time, did you?”

“I told you a million times, that was a misunderstanding!” Lucifer bit back a smile at the memory of a cop with an outraged expression handcuffing him for ‘attacking an officer’. “Besides, it got cleared up rather quickly.”

“You spent _two_ nights in jail.”

“Minor details,” he shrugged dismissively, flashing a radiant grin at his oldest friend.

“So where is he? Or is it a _she_ now?”

“It’s Dan we’re talking about,” Lucifer rolled his eyes with a fond smile playing on his lips. “Male, cop and straight as a freaking arrow is kind of his thing.”

“Okay. Boring, but okay. So why do you look so… distressed?” the demon raised her scarred eyebrow. “Is he taller than you? More handsome, perhaps? Oh, no, no, wait! His name is Jesus, isn’t it?”

“You’re having fun, aren’t you?”

“Oh, yes,” Maze snorted as an undignified laugh escaped her. “No, seriously, what’s the matter?”

“He’s eleven…”

“Oh.”

“… months old.”

“Ohhh.” The demon stared blankly at him before narrowing her eyes in disbelief. “What?! Isn’t there some sort of rule that they would only show up at a legal drinking age?”

“Apparently not.”

“Are you sure it was him?”

“How can I possibly be wrong about _that,_ Maze?” he huffed exasperatedly, rubbing his forehead.

“So… now you know who he is.” Maze shrugged and waltzed out of the bedroom. “It’s better than nothing,” she added a moment later, a bottle of whiskey and two glasses in her hands. “At least now you know where to look.”

“I don’t think it was a coincident,” Lucifer mumbled, taking one of the glasses and downing it in one gulp.

“Huh?”

“Meeting him now… I think it was part of the plan.”

“Your Dad’s plan, you mean?”

“Sure, but Dan must have agreed to it before coming down here.”

“And what’s that plan, huh? For you to play the good unky Lucifer? Didn’t you cover that one with _all_ of _his_ children?” Maze scoffed, taking a sip directly from the bottle.

“It’s different,” Lucifer shrugged, his eyes inspecting a small crack on the wall.

“How?”

“He doesn’t have anyone. His parents were murdered and he has no other living relatives.”

“Ah, no! I see where you’re going with this and the answer is _no!_ ”

“But…”

“Look, I liked Dan, I really did. And Matt wasn’t bad either. But _this_ ain’t gonna happen. No way!”

“Why? I mean, how hard could it be? Humans do it all the time.”

“Exactly!” Maze snapped at him, her expression growing tired. “So let the professionals handle it.”

“But what if…” Lucifer hesitated, casting an insecure glance at the demon. “What if he came here believing that I’d take care of him? And before you say anything – yes, that may be some elaborate game of Dad’s to teach me a lesson, but… It also may be the only way our friend could stay with us.” His voice faded as the memories of the final breaths of his friends came to life in his mind’s eye. Their souls were tired; the very existence on Earth was draining them, leaving them less and less time away from the Silver City.

“Well, first of all, thanks, but no, thanks. And second… I highly doubt Mr. I-can’t-breathe-without-my-gun-and-my-badge would have agreed to come here just so he can live as the most messed up child on the planet.”

“Well, that’s simply insulting.”

“Okay,” Maze narrowed her eyes. “Give me some proof. One thing that would suggest that this isn’t just a stupid coincidence.”

“Well, it’s not like Dad likes to make things easy or obvious,” Lucifer shrugged, taking the whiskey from the demon and pouring himself a full glass of the burning liquid. “But, for what it's worth, the child’s birth name is Luca Samuel Smith.”


	3. It Takes a Village

Peter’s eyes welled with tears as his young self laughed from the screen, giving an overdramatic eye-roll to someone behind the camera.

_“Suzie!”_

_“Come on, Pete! For the future generations.”_

_“I really doubt the future generations would appreciate the sight of me in a thong,”_ he protested but turned around, displaying his backside and earning an appreciative whistle.

It used to be his wife’s passion – those little embarrassing videos of their boring everyday lives, capturing each moment with so much love, so much devotion, as if she’d known that one day they would be all that’s left of her.  They’d kept him sane during those agonizing first weeks after she’d lost the battle with the illness that had poisoned their happiness. They were his safe haven during the long nights when insomnia and the ghosts of his past would come to torment his mind. He’d spent hours running his fingers through his greying hair reminiscing about the days when small gentle hands had played with his raven curls. For thirty four years his whole existence had been defined by her – his charmingly childish, petite, strawberry-blonde queen – and the world had almost fallen apart when she’d left him. Looking back he still couldn’t figure out what had given him the strength to move on without her. Sometimes, recalling the blurred memories of loneliness and despair, he could swear it had been Suzanne’s sweet voice that had guided him from their empty home in Wisconsin to his new life in Los Angeles.

If the walls of his small apartment could talk, they’d undoubtedly tell countless remarkable stories, but none of them were his. There were no memories to haunt him here, no restless ghosts of long-forgotten happy days to remind him of everything he’d lost. And for some time he’d thought that that was the escape he needed.

Until the day _he_ had waltzed in the precinct as if he owned the place and had somehow convinced the Lieutenant that a delusional club owner was exactly what the LAPD needed.

Lucifer Morningstar. The epitome of everything that city represented – glamour, pleasure, frivolity and sin. And yet when he’d announced with a smug smirk playing on his lips that he was his new partner, Peter hadn’t protested. To this day he claimed he’d agreed out of boredom or the lack of strength to fight for a lost cause. But the truth was that the moment he’d met his eyes he’d recognized a kindred spirit in him – someone who had suffered a great loss and was fighting the same battle as he was. Behind the carefully crafted façade was hiding a wounded soul, craving for something deep and meaningful that had been taken from him. The Devil was a fallen angel and Peter could understand the nostalgia for a lost paradise.

The old detective was drifting off, lulled by the sound of melodious laughter, coming from the old TV when a song about the Devil rang out, startling him in his sleep. He clapped his hands to accept the call, cursing silently under his breath and swearing for the millionth time that he would find out _how_ to change the ringtone Lucifer had put on his phone.

“It’s two in the morning,” Peter stated instead of a greeting, rubbing his eyes.

“Yes, I’m aware,” Lucifer huffed in response. “I need help.”

“This isn’t one of your attempts to set me up with some of your lady friends, old enough to be my granddaughters, is it?”

“That happened one time and I still believe it would have been a great birthday surprise, had you not been so closed-minded,” the young man groaned in vexation and Peter could swear he _heard_ him roll his eyes. “Regardless, I need you to come over. I’m in a bit of a… predicament.” A distant female voice broke the third Commandment and the Devil gave a soft snort of exasperation.

“Was that Mazikeen? Must be really bad if _she_ , of all people, is calling God,” the detective chuckled at his own joke, but grabbed his jacket and car keys. An indistinct noise was echoing from Lucifer’s side of the line, giving the man a sense of uneasiness he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“Well, He’s kind of the reason we’re in this mess so… Are you on your way already?” The last words sounded like a plea and Peter bit back the warning about calling wolf he’d planned to throw in the conversation.

“Give me twenty minutes,” he said instead, hoping that the traffic won’t be a problem at such a late hour.

_________

 

“What _on earth_ have you done?” Peter yelled at his outstretched on the floor next to the piano partner. The man had known Lucifer for about a year and a half and during that time he’d been misfortunate enough to walk in on him in the company of both men and women in positions that redefined the laws of physics, biology and the Kama Sutra. He’d seen him steal drugs from a crime scene, threaten suspects and bribe judges. Peter had learned not to believe he’d seen _all_ the club owner was capable of, because he always managed to find a way to surprise him. And yet the scene that unfolded before his eyes as he stepped out of the elevator into Lucifer’s penthouse wasn’t something he ever expected to witness. “Tell me this isn’t what I think it is!”

“Need I remind you I can’t read minds, Pete?” Lucifer grunted, slowly getting on his feet. “But I assume you’re puzzled by-” he waved a hand in the direction of the couch where an infant boy was bawling at the top of his lungs, “-that.”

“A little bit, yeah,” the detective nodded, rushing to the child. “Mind explaining me what is going on?”

“Well, apparently, you can’t hire a babysitter in the middle of the night. Believe me, I tried.” The club owner shrugged, reaching for an almost empty bottle of whiskey. “I also tried singing, playing the piano, telling stories – it didn’t work. He just won’t shut up. Maze suggested we give him a few sips of alcohol to make him sleep and that’s when I decided we should probably call, well, you. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Okay. T-that’s a g-good call,” the man stuttered shifting his gaze from his partner to the woman shooting daggers at the baby in his arms from her place on the nearest chair. “I literally have no idea where to start. Um… Whose child is this?”

“Remember the couple from the other day? Robbery gone wrong?”

“What?” Peter frowned at him, still struggling to pacify the baby. “Lucifer, did you _kidnap_ him?”

“Define _kidnap_.” Despite the exhaustion, written on his face, the Devil managed to give the old man a smug smile.

“Lucifer! That’s a felony! I should arrest both of you. I should probably even arrest myself for even being here.”

“Oh, good,” Maze rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Jail sounds like fun compared to _this_.”

“Come now, let’s not be hasty,” Lucifer purred, daring to come closer to his partner and the screaming creature. “We haven’t done anything… anyone would press charges for. Besides I do intend to make it all legal.” His look was speaking louder than any words could that he was doubting his own sanity at that moment, but he hesitantly touched the baby’s cheek with his index finger. “It’s just a matter of time. But I didn’t want to leave him at that hideous place any longer. There were about a dozen other children crawling around in that house.” He made disgusted expression and shook his head as if to cast away the horrendous image.

“But why do you want to take the child in?” Peter asked, searching the boy’s disfigured from cry features for any signs of relation to the promiscuous club owner.

“Apparently the little miscreant’s name is a sign that we need to deprive ourselves of sleep, sex and any other form of fun,” Mazikeen snorted, narrowing her eyes at Lucifer.

“Huh?”

“What my little sex thug is failing to explain is that he belongs with us,” the tall man shrugged, tilting his head to observe the child. “Though I would have appreciated it if he could at least talk. How am I supposed to know what he wants if all he does is howl?”

“Did you try feeding him?”

“Yup,” Lucifer nodded, looking rather morose. “Initially I was planning on giving him pudding – two lifetimes of liking the same snack cannot be coincidental – but the doctor in the video I watched said small children shouldn’t be given sugar. So I mashed him a banana.”

“Okay,” Peter furrowed his brows, trying not to overthink the part about the two lifetimes. “And I assume you changed his diaper?”

“Yes and now Lucifer owes me his soul,” Maze hissed, generously pouring herself tequila in a tea cup.

“That’s a little exaggerated,” Lucifer protested, but the look on the woman’s face rendered him mute.

The detective forced himself to keep a straight expression while listening to the exchange, letting just a deep sigh escape him.

“Let’s say that’s… a decent start,” Peter shook his head at the pair. “I just hope this isn’t a game for you.”

“And what would the fun in such game be?”

“I don’t know, Mazikeen. It won’t be the first time your intentions have remained a mystery to me.”

“I assure you the child will be safe,” Lucifer promised, casting a warning glance at the demon. “Just tell me how to make that screeching stop!”

“I don’t know,” Peter shrugged, a diabolical smile playing on his lips. “I never had kids. I guess you’ll have to figure it out on your own, princess.”

“No, no, no! Pete! Please!” The panic in the Devil’s voice would have been quite laughable if the horror in his eyes wasn’t genuine. “Don’t leave me!”

“Look, just… breathe. Children are quite sensitive. If you’re calm, he’ll sense it and relax.”

“Really? That’s your big advice?”

“That’s all I’ve got. You may try it before discarding it.”

“Fine. So what? I… inhale and exhale… and then…”

“And then you take the child…”

“Ah, no! _You_ hold him and…”

“Lucifer!”

Peter and Maze both bit back a smile watching as the club owner finally surrendered and fearfully brought the screaming child closer to his chest, muttering something about expensive shirts.

“How long will it take?”

“Just a couple of minutes. Why don’t you sing a lullaby, huh?”

___________

 

It was about an hour before the baby finally got exhausted and fell asleep. Lucifer drifted off the second the child calmed down, still holding him in his arms.


	4. Pranks and Babysitters

Peter pressed the elevator button, silently rehearsing the speech he had prepared in his mind. Eloquence had never been his strong suit, but he felt that his usual approach wouldn’t do the trick this time.

Seven months had passed since the night his partner had called him in the middle of the night, asking for help with the newest and most unexpected member of his household. Lucifer hadn’t given up the child like the detective had feared, but he hadn’t been acting like something major had changed in his life either. As a young officer Peter used to pity the new dads coming to work with puke stains on their shirts and a cup of coffee glued to their hands, seeing only the exhaustion written on their faces and the hint of desperation whenever something remotely sounding like a ‘college fund’ came up as a topic. Growing older he began to notice and envy the happiness and the pride with which they spoke of their kids or placed their pictures on their desks. All of those badass, tough as nails policemen were miraculously turning soft and silly facing the little creature for whom they were the whole world. And part of him had wanted that change for Lucifer, just like he’d craved it for himself all those years ago. But he never saw it happen. His partner had come back to work three days after bringing the child to his home, dressed to the nines, looking well-rested and a little bored. The only thing that had indicated the turn his life had taken had been the volatile conversations he’d had with the social workers who had come looking for him at the precinct, but even those visits had stopped after a couple of weeks. Lucifer’s explanation of how he was coping with the new situation included phrases such as ‘filthy rich’ and ‘a legion of babysitters’, delivered with a smug grin. Just like everything else in his life, he’d taken the role of a legal guardian to the orphan as a game, but the child was healthy, well-fed and cared for and Peter couldn’t say anything about his technique. Until today.

The elevator doors slid open and the man saw Mazikeen jumping on her feet, looking guiltily at his direction before actually noticing it was him.

“Oh,” she snorted relaxing and sat back on the floor next to the toddler. “Thought you were Lucifer.”

“Isn’t he home?”

“Duh,” the woman rolled her eyes at the detective and focused her attention back on the child, lifting a small piece of paper in front of his face.

“When will he be back?”

“Soon. Now go wait with the nanny, before you completely ruin everything.”

Without averting his gaze from the pair, Peter made the few steps separating him from the couch where a young woman was sitting, trying to blend in with the furniture. He hadn’t seen her before and, judging by the horror written on her face, he wasn’t going to have to learn her name.

“What is this all about?” The detective cocked his head in the direction of Mazikeen and Luca, raising his brows.

“She’s playing a prank on the boss,” the girl cried, her voice trembling. “I begged her not to, but she said it would be funny. He’s going to be so mad.”

“Maze, what is she talking about?” Peter raised his voice, rushing toward the woman when the soft ding of the elevator announced Lucifer’s arrival. With the corner of his eye the detective saw Maze hiding a photo of the club owner in her back pocket, before waving at the nanny to come pick the child.

“Pete, you’re here early,” Lucifer beamed at his partner. “New case?”

“More like new development on an old one. What happened to you?” Peter’s gaze fell on the man’s torn shirt, his expression growing worried.

“Oh, this?” The club owner chuckled softly, a crooked smile lifting the corner of his lips. “This is the reminder of a rather pleasant night. Would you like more details?”

“I’m good, thanks.”

“As you wish,” Lucifer shrugged, his eyes landing on the boy who was busy inspecting his nanny’s earrings. “How’s Dan?”

“Uh, good… Great. He slept the whole night... more or less.” The girl smiled, shifting from foot to foot. “I’m sorry, can I go now? I have this thing I need to attend to and…”

“Oh, sure, my dear. The other babysitter should be here any minute now. I believe we can survive on our own until her arrival,” the Devil chuckled carelessly, fishing out a wad of cash from his breast pocket and handing her two hundred dollar bills.

“How many babysitters exactly do you have?” Peter dared to ask, watching the young woman disappear behind the closing elevator doors.

“Six, I think.” Lucifer shrugged, narrowing his eyes as he began to count out loud, “One takes the night shift and two others watch over him during the day. For the weekends we have different girls. Of course, Maze always manages to scare some of them off so we’re constantly hiring new ones. What can I tell you, he’s a handful little urchin this one.” He kneeled on the thick carpet where the boy was playing with Mazikeen’s Christmas gift for him – a plastic replica of her daggers. The child lifted his gaze at him, a toothy grin playing on his chubby little face. Unnoticed by the man, Maze stood behind him, making signs at the toddler.

“Da-” the boy murmured after a moment of hesitation, casting a glance at the woman for approval before merrily adding another “da.”

“Да?” Lucifer furrowed his brows as the child pronounced the syllable a couple more times. “Why is he speaking Russian?”

“I highly doubt that’s Russian.” Maze was biting her lips, struggling to keep a straight expression. “Or any other Slavic language for that matter.”

“Do you think he’s trying to say his name?” The Devil beamed, shooting an encouraging smile at the little boy.

“Yeah… This isn’t an interpretation I expected you’d come up with.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Lucifer jumped on his feet, a subtle threat ringing in his voice.

“What?” Maze chuckled, ignoring the club owner’s growing vexation. “It’s cute.”

“No, it’s not and you bloody know it!”

“Lucifer, son, come on…” Peter stepped closer, placing a hand on the other man’s shoulder, but he pulled away from his touch.

“I’m not your son and I’m not his father and you better remember that!”

The yelling made the child cry, but Lucifer didn’t even look at him. He muttered something about having to change his clothes and disappeared in the bedroom just as the elevator doors slid open once again, letting out a tall middle-aged woman with short auburn hair and pleasant freckled face.

“Uh,” the newcomer hesitated, summoning a small smile. “I’m Eva. Eva Rodgers. Emily is sick and asked me to cov-”

“Yeah, sure,” Maze grunted and waved at the screaming child. “Make him be quiet.”

“Who are you?” Lucifer stormed back into the room, buttoning up his new black shirt and cast a quick glance at the woman who was struggling to calm down the little boy.

“The new babysitter. My na-”

“Do you know what you’re doing?”

“Yes, I’m…”

“Good,” he waved a hand dismissively and headed for the elevator. “Pete?”

Shifting his gaze from the tall man to the small child, the detective followed his partner into the lift cabin.

“That was a little exaggerated, don’t you think?”

Summoning an apologetic smile, Lucifer shrugged, whispering in a calm voice, “I don’t expect you to understand.”

Everything in his expression was screaming that he wanted to forget the whole situation, but all that came out of him as the detective shook his head was a weak sigh.

“You know, before that charming little scene, I was meaning to tell you that today is the Take Your Kids to Work Day. But I suppose you’re not interested in that.”

“You’re right,” Lucifer muttered through clenched teeth.

“Why did you adopt the child? You’re clearly not enjoying the role of a father figure.”

“Legal guardian.”

“That still doesn’t answer my question.”

“It’s… temporary,” the fallen angel murmured, just as the doors slid open, releasing him from the cabin.

“What is temporary?” the detective panted, struggling to keep up with his partner’s impossible pace.

Lucifer rolled his eyes, turning around to face the old man. “This whole frustratingly boring child situation won’t last forever,” he explained, his eyes growing soft. “He’ll grow up and then everything will be the way it used to be. I’ll have my best friend back.”

“What are you talking about?” Peter frowned, trying to make sense of the man’s words. “You still think the child is that friend of yours that had passed away? Daniel?”

“I don’t _think_ anything. I _know_ it.”

“Okay, fine,” the detective raised his hands in defeat. “Let’s say the soul of your fiend has been reincarnated as this boy Luca. That’s not the same person you remember. You can’t expect him to be.”

“Like I said, I don’t expect you to understand.”

Lucifer’s words marked the end of that conversation and the beginning of an uncomfortably silent car ride to the police precinct. Not even the program on the radio could cast away the awkward tension vibrating in the closed space of the vehicle and Peter silently tanked God there wasn’t any traffic to prolong the dreadful journey.

“Corrigan!” The Sergeant’s yell greeted him as he and Lucifer entered the precinct. “Interrogation room four.”

“Someone’s in a good mood,” the Devil observed with a soft snort.

“It’s because of that case half of the detectives have been working on,” Peter explained, grabbing the files from his desk.

“What, the catnappers?” Lucifer chuckled, searching his partner’s drawer for the sweets he kept hidden there. Granted, the perps had proven smarter than the LAPD had expected and hadn’t limited their victims to members of the animal kingdom, but the Lord of Hell couldn’t be bothered to treat with respect a criminal organization that had first become famous for kidnapping old ladies’ pets for ransom.

“Two days ago they took Marica Rein.”

“The pornstar?”

“What? No. The daughter of Alexander Rein – the famous producer.”

“Oh,” Lucifer exhaled, a little disappointed.

“Don’t worry – she’s pretty, too.” Peter rolled his eyes, before adding grimly, “Or at least she used to be. When her dad called the police they sent him her ear in a plastic bag.”

“Now that’s just barbaric,” Lucifer growled, disgust written on his face. “But I still don’t understand what this has to do with interrogation room number four.”

“I called to tell you this morning, but you must have been too preoccupied to hear your phone,” the detective teased before handing him one of the files he was going through. “David Alexander. Sanchez suspects he’s one of the kidnappers, but he won’t talk and we really can’t afford to let some lawyer snatch him from under our noses. Hence we need you to do your mojo.”

“And the magic word?”

“Now!”

“You know, Pete, I like you, I really do. But every once in a while I want to punch you in the face,” Lucifer grunted, his voice bearing none of the threat suggested by his words.

“You think you can wait until _after_ we solve the case?” the detective asked with a peculiar mix of a smug grin and a condescending smile playing on his lips.

“I’ll try to contain myself,” the younger man chuckled, going backwards into the interrogation room. “Davie,” he yelled at the handcuffed to the table suspect, locking their eyes together. “How about you tell me what it is that you truly desire?”

The man’s gaze went dizzy as he began to explain his wish to earn some easy money to make his girlfriend happy. “She likes men who can buy her pretty things. And I… I’m nobody. Don’t even know why she agreed to go out with me in the first place. But I never wanted to hurt anybody, I swear. We took good care of the pets we…”

“Kidnapped?” Lucifer offered helpfully and David nodded.

“Then _she_ came along and said we can do better. The boys listened to her. But I never wanted this! Please, you have to believe me!”

“Who is this _she_ you’re talking about?” Peter queried, keeping his voice calm.

“Don’t know her name,” the man shrugged, casting a glance at the detective. “We all had code names. Mine was Barracuda. She told us to call her Samantha.”

“This Samantha, can you describe her?” Peter was already texting the police sketch artist.

“What’s in it for me?”

“For starters, you get to keep your legs,” Lucifer grinned wickedly at the suspect causing a visible shudder to go through him.

“We’ll think of something once you’ve proven yourself useful,” Peter amended, not even bothering to scold his partner. “Trust me, it’s in your best interest to cooperate with us.”

The man just nodded vigorously, a sudden thought brightening his features.

“She’s planning one last hit,” he spat out. “Some rich dude or something. Said it would be easy since the guy has no security detail.”

“Who is the target?”

“Don’t know. She said she’ll handle it herself. But that was helpful, right?”

_______

“Yeah, real helpful,” Peter grunted fifteen minutes later, pacing in circle in front of the interrogation room while the sketch artist was working with the suspect. “This is LA – it’s full of reckless rich guys. Besides, the target will most likely be a member of the man’s family.”

Lucifer just shrugged, filling his mouth with gummy bears. Solving cases had become a little too easy for his taste.

“Detective Corrigan,” the artist approached the older man, handing him a tablet, displaying a remarkably realistic sketch of a woman that made the blood freeze in his veins. Behind him Lucifer let out a pained sigh as he also recognized the face looking at them with cold green eyes.

“The nanny.”


	5. Taken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry this took so long. In my defense, I started watching This Is Us and, well, priorities :D  
> Personal information no one asked me for: I made a deal with my best friend that I'm going to watch the show if she watches Lucifer. So far both of us are very very pleased with that deal.

“Lucifer?” Peter turned to his partner, trying to determine the emotion, written on his face. The initial shock, mixed with fear got replaced by fury and for a split second the detective thought his old eyes caught a flicker of red in the man’s burning gaze. “Sonny, whatever you think of doing…”

His voice broke as he choked on the lump stuck in his throat. He willed himself not to think about the small child he’d seen two hours ago; not to feel the wave of panic, threatening to suffocate him. It was his greatest flaw – even after three decades of police practice he still couldn’t force himself not to empathize with the victims’ pain. His wife used to say that _that_ was what made him such a great detective, even though every case had stolen hours of his sleep and a piece of his own heart. And now, looking at Lucifer’s frantic expression, he couldn’t help but feel all those raw emotions every rookie cop was taught to suppress on the job.

His partner was typing something on his phone, muttering threats under his breath. The silent ring, notifying an incoming message was followed by the man’s roar and before Peter could stop him, Lucifer was running toward the emergency staircase, disappearing from sight a second later.

“You know, one day your partner needs to teach me how he does that.” One of the younger detectives, whose name Peter could not be bothered to remember, lazily approached the old man, casting a quick glance at the empty staircase. “I could use that trick when my mother-in-law visits us during the holidays. Hey, what’s the rush?”

Ignoring the man’s indignant mutter, Peter grabbed the car keys from his desk and headed for the exit.

His Honda was waiting for him, parked at the same spot he’d left it in the morning and he briefly wondered if Lucifer hadn’t stol… borrowed some other police vehicle to get where he needed to go, since they’d come together to work. Shaking off those thoughts, he got into the car, absentmindedly turning on the sirens.

Storming into the seemingly empty penthouse, Peter silently cursed himself for not checking the GPS to confirm his partner’s whereabouts, before noticing him standing motionlessly next to the desk in his library, staring blankly at a sheet of paper.

“Lucifer?”

The club owner raised his gaze and for several dreadful moments the detective had the feeling he couldn’t recognize him.

“This is a joke,” he finally whispered, waving the piece of paper. “It _has_ to be. Who does _this_ anymore?!”

Slowly, as if approaching a skittish animal, Peter went to the young man, taking the sheet from his hands. It was a ransom note, formed from letters cut from magazine headlines. The detective gasped at the number of zeros, but Lucifer seemed more concerned by the last sentence of the message.

“You have to go, Pete. It says no police.”

“What the hell does that even mean?” Peter snapped, crumpling the sheet and throwing it on the floor. “ _You_ work for the LAPD, for Christ sake.”

“Can you not?” Lucifer rolled his eyes in tired exasperation. “This isn’t one of your cases. Besides, you just damaged a key piece of evidence.”

Casting a glance at the note in his feet, the detective shrugged. “We still can examine it for fingerprints, but I doubt our kidnapper has been _that_ sloppy.”

“That’s why I don’t need you. I’ve got the money. I’ll handle it.”

“So you’re gonna play by _their_ rules?”

“You have a better idea? Perhaps find a fine surgeon to stitch the child’s ears or fingers back?”

“Of course not. But you have to be smart about it. Listen to me; I’ve been doing this longer than you’ve been alive…”

“That’s literally impossible,” Lucifer scoffed, rolling his eyes, but the detective ignored the remark.

“These things almost never go as planned. You need to have a proper strategy.”

“Oh, I have a strategy,” the younger man growled, a wide wicked grin disfiguring his face. “Though I’m a little torn between skinning them alive and disemboweling them. But I suppose it’s not entirely infeasible to do both.”

“Sure,” the detective breathed, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “You’re the big, scary Devil. People should know not to mess with you, right?

“Right.”

“So let’s assume that whatever vengeful plan you have mapped out in your head actually works, huh? What about the other victims?”

“What about them?”

“Marica Rein is still held hostage somewhere. She’s alone and scared, praying for someone to come and save her. If you go Liam Neeson – and _yes_ , I know who Liam Neeson is, you’re not the only one familiar with the old action movies – you’ll most probably get Luca back, but that girl may not live to see another day.”

“So what do you suggest?” Lucifer hissed, narrowing his eyes. “That I put Dan’s life in the hands of the incompetent brats, whose greatest achievement is reuniting Snowpaws with her ninety-year-old owner? I think I’ll pass.”

“Okay, fine. Fuck the police.” Peter grunted, pressing his palms together, as if for prayer. “But trust _me_.”

“I do trust you,” the younger man whispered, his expression growing soft. “But what I’m about to do…”

“Is against the rules?” the detective offered, a small smile brightening his features. “Like you’ve ever done anything by the book.”

“And you’re sure you’ll be fine with it?”

“I am,” Peter nodded, taking the crumpled note from the floor. “They kidnapped your kid. Ah –” he raised his index finger to shush his partner’s protest. “Don’t care what label you’ve put it. It’s still your kid. It’s personal. So I won’t stop you if you want to… break the legs of the people responsible. But I can’t have you going blindly on a murderous rampage.”

“Forget what I said last week. I still don’t like him.” Mazikeen’s voice echoed from across the room as she approached the two men, measuring Peter with her eyes.

“Did you find anything?” Lucifer asked, stepping between the man and the demon.

“Zilch,” the woman shook her head, letting out a huff. “No one has seen anything and I couldn’t track them down. Are you sure we can’t bring one of the hounds?”

“I’m considering it,” the Devil grunted, rubbing a hand across his forehead. “What about the money.”

“Taken care of.”

“So you’re going to go with the exchange plan, after all?” Peter waved the ransom note, before throwing it on the desk.

“Have a little faith in me, Pete.”

“I just don’t see what good that will do without a back-up. You know – a police unit or two.”

“Oh, I’m not doing anything _good_ today,” Lucifer snarled, raising his gaze to look at the clock on the wall. “We have six hours. Enough to sharpen your knives, eh, Maze?”

_________

 

“Corrigan.” Peter summoned his most confident voice answering his phone. “Yes, Lieutenant, we’re… following a lead of our own. I beg your pardon?” The detective cast a look at the young man staying on the balcony with hands gathered for prayer. “Are you sure? Yes, I understand. Thank you.”

“They’re not answering,” Lucifer groaned, rushing back inside. “None of them. I even called that pompous ass Michael.” He went to pour himself a drink before nodding at the phone in his friend’s hand. “Who was it?”

“Lieutenant Summers. Apparently, one Isabel Murray has been found dead on the beach.”

“Who?”

“The nanny.”

Lucifer’s expression went blank for a moment before a brittle smile curved the corners of his lips. “So that’s why no one showed up.”

“There must have been a… change in leadership. Whoever is in charge now should contact you soon.”

“And what if they don’t?”

“We’ll think of something.”

“What?” Lucifer growled, throwing the glass he was holding across the room. “Plan A was a dead-end. Quite literally. Plan G is ignoring me like always. And none of my siblings would do as much as _acknowledge_ my existence. So _please_ , tell me what we are going to think of, because right now the only solution I can come up with sounds dangerously like _releasing a pack of hellhounds_.”

Peter opened his mouth, hoping the right words would find their way to him, when a soft buzzing, coming from Lucifer’s discarded on the floor suit jacket, made both men catch their breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellhounds are scary, deadly and uncontrollable. Lucifer is not bringing them to his favorite city, guys. Though I realize how awesome that could be :D


	6. Take Me to Church

_“Mr. Morningstar?”_ a modified voice asked politely.

“Yes.”

_“I apologize for the turn of events. This was never the plan; I wanted you to know that.”_

“If you want more money…”

_“We don’t. I’m afraid the deal’s off.”_

“Wait!” Lucifer yelled at the now silent device in his hand, an unspoken plea glowing in his eyes.

__________

 

Peter absentmindedly cast a look at his watch, letting out a deep sigh. Three feet from him another detective was giving orders to the forensic scientists and the cops, crowding Lucifer’s penthouse. Near the balcony door Maze was having a heated, yet somewhat intimate conversation with someone named Carmen Milano and the man was trying to fool himself that that wasn’t the notorious Boss of the Los Angeles crime family. Lucifer had disappeared shortly after the call lasted less than fifteen seconds had caused him to hurl his phone across the room, growling something about ripping tongues and members of the Yakuza owing him favors. He had shrugged at Peter’s request to call the police and now familiar faces and strangers were going in and out of the penthouse, glancing judgmentally at the impressive bar or muttering the thoughts the detective didn’t have the strength to voice himself.

Twenty-three hours had passed since Lucifer and Maze had left the child alone with the woman they’d believed would take care of him. The voice of reason was whispering in his head that the time they had was running out; that with every minute that went by the chances of rescuing the little boy were diminishing. And yet he refused to listen. Statistics meant nothing when he could still hear the innocent giggle that was filling that same room with joy not a day ago. _Hope for the best, but expect the worst_ – that was the formula to staying sane every officer had been taught and had repeated to themselves ever since the Academy. _You can’t save them all._

The elevator doors slid open and Lucifer shuffled out of the cabin, not even noticing the people going through his belongings.

“Excuse me, sir?” A rookie cop made her way to the man, failing to hide the lust in her eyes even as they met the cold indifference in Lucifer’s gaze. “I’m gonna need a photo.”

“A what?” he asked, raising his brows.

“A photo. Of… of the child,” the young woman clarified, clearing her throat. “For the AMBER Alert. We have the description, but… uh… you know.”

Blinking densely, he swallowed hard, before murmuring, “I don’t have one.” Seeing the cop’s dumbstruck expression, he tried to explain, a small apologetic smile twitching the corners of his lips, “I didn’t think I might need photos. And it’s not like he ever does anything… interesting.”

“I see,” the woman furrowed her brows, confusion written all over her face.

“It’s okay.” Peter dismissed the cop with a wave of his hand and led Lucifer to sit on the couch.

“People always have pictures of their children,” the club owner whispered as if to himself. “Even of the fat and ugly ones.” Casting a glance at the other man, he added grimly, “I failed him, didn’t I?”

“We’ll use the photo from the adoption papers and age it digitally.” The detective offered an encouraging smile to his partner, squeezing his shoulder lightly. “Everything will be all right.”

“You don’t even believe that,” Lucifer shook his head, but when his gaze met the warm hazel eyes of his friend, his voice faltered. “What if I don’t get him back?”

“That’s not an option,” Peter breathed, wrapping an arm around the man’s broad shoulders. “It’s okay, sonny.”

Lucifer pulled away from the embrace, jumping on his feet. “It’s not okay and it’s all my fault.” Running both hands through his hair, he took another step back, his eyes widening as his own words slowly sank in. “ _I_ did this.”

“Self-blame never got no one nowhere,” the detective chided, standing up from the couch.

The fallen angel huffed softly, waving a hand. “I’ve seen the worst of humanity,” he murmured after a painfully long moment of silence. “I know _exactly_ what people are capable of. Things you cannot possibly fathom.” His gaze wandered through the room, falling on the faces of the officers. “He was so good with strangers,” he mused, eyes still lingering on the humans, standing idly in his home. “In that book you gave me, was said that children at that age usually shy away from people they don’t know – toddler stranger anxiety, I believe it was called – but not him. He beamed at every new face. See, for him a stranger was someone who’d feed and bathe, and play with him so I wouldn’t have to burden myself.” A sharp, humorless laughter escaped him as he continued his rambling, pacing in circle, “Every moronic, tank top-wearing miscreant, who can’t do the bare minimum of teaching their spawn not to shove their fingers up to the wrist in their noses, has the wits to tell them _not_ to talk to strangers, but _I_ –” his voice broke and he gritted his teeth in anger, a grotesque grimace disfiguring his features. “I can’t believe he actually agreed to this! Trust Detective Douche to make a poor life choice.”

“So…” Mazikeen approached the two men and threw her phone on the coffee table, before saying grimly, “The good news is we must be dealing with some very skillful and extremely lucky newbies, ‘cause none of my underground contacts knows anything about the kidnappers. The bad news is… _none of my underground contacts knows anything about the kidnappers.”_

“Lovely,” Lucifer sighed, fishing a pack of cigarettes out of his breast pocket and cocked his head at the ceiling. “You know, _this_ would be a nice time for you to stop acting like an asshole and _do_ _something!_ What is it?” he queried upon hearing the muted groan that escaped Peter and shot a worried look at the man.

“Ugh,” the detective grunted, gesturing at the tablet in his hand. “The forensics report just arrived. The phone call is a dead end. Untraceable, just like we thought. There is an echo of steps in the background but no other sound that could help determine the location. I’m sorry!” Letting out a deep sigh, Peter sat on the couch, his eyes falling on his watch of their own volition.

“What about that scumbag we interrogated?” Lucifer asked, waving his hands in exasperation. “Alexander whatshisname?”

“David Alexander,” the detective supplied and shook his head. “Pretty much useless. He and his friends were in for the easy money and got scared when things got more serious. He gave us the descriptions of the other people he worked with, but according to him, Miss Murray had other associates they never got the chance to meet.”

“So we’re searching blindly for people we know nothing about? They could be a thousand miles away right now.”

“Raising quite literal Hell is still on the table,” Maze suggested wryly, shooting a glance at Lucifer.

“Detective?” a cop panted, running to Peter. “Another body. Fingerprints confirmed it’s Marica Rein.”

A soft groan escaped the aging man, before he managed to regain his composure. “They’re covering their tracks.”

“You think?” Maze hissed, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“They’ll kill him,” Lucifer whispered, his expression going blank. “Or they already have.”

Letting out a weak sigh, he turned around, tottering toward the balcony.

“Son!”

“I’ll do better,” the young man mumbled, eyes lifted upwards. “I’ll try harder. No more shortcuts, no more loopholes. I promise!”

“Get back here!” Mazikeen grabbed his arm yanking him back inside. “It’s us, Lucifer. It’s always been us. And we’ll figure it out!”

“How?”

“I don’t know!” the woman huffed, throwing her hands up. “We’ll search every bloody building in the state, if we have to. We’ve always enjoyed a good hunt, haven’t we?”

“And Dan?”

The demon dropped her gaze, lifting her shoulders in a small shrug. “Worst case scenario, he goes back to Heaven.”

Lucifer opened his mouth to object when the gentle melody of a song he hadn’t heard in decades caught his attention.

“I’m so sorry!” the cop, who had delivered the news about Marica Rein, apologized in a small voice, turning off his phone.

“It’s quite alright,” Lucifer grinned at the man, a glimmer of hope brightening his features.

“Was that…” Maze took a step toward the police officer, looking askance at the device in his hands.

“My Dad? I believe so, yes,” the fallen angel nodded, taking a step toward the elevator. “Coming?” He outstretched an arm as an invitation and the demon took it, using her other hand to draw out her daggers, mirth glowing in her eyes.

Watching with puzzled expression, mirroring those of his colleagues, as the pair disappeared behind the closing lift doors, Peter grabbed the arm of the officer next to him, pulling him closer.

“What was that?”

“I-I don’t know,” the other man mumbled before adding silently, “It’s _your_ partner.”

Ignoring the remark, the detective asked, narrowing his eyes, “That song – what’s so special about it?”

“Uh… That’s the song that played at the club when my husband and I first met,” the cop explained, furrowing his brows. “We were at one of those retro parties held at Nostalgia.”

“Name?”

“Mario Peretti, sir.”

“Not yours. Of the song!”

“Ah, yeah, of course,” Mario smiled awkwardly, wishing the detective wasn’t standing so intimidatingly close to him. “It’s ‘Take Me to Church’.”


	7. Start Over

“Third time’s the charm,” Maze breathed in his ear as he soared above Virginia Ave, holding her tightly in his arms.

In the dim light of the setting sun all buildings below seemed grey, but he soon recognized the silhouette of one his Father’s many houses. The St. Clement of Ochrid Church was supposedly closed for restoration and from the outside it looked almost abandoned, save for a single person, who quietly sneaked through the back entrance as Lucifer swooped down, landing gracefully on the rooftop.

“Don’t kill them,” he instructed, releasing the demon from his embrace.

The sinister smile playing on her lips faded into a frown. “Are you serious?”

“I have plans for them,” the Devil whispered, his eyes flaring red for a second. “Remember the games we used to play in Hell?”

She nodded, lifting the glamour from her beautiful face. “I’ll meet you inside.”

For a short moment he watched her stealthily carry herself, climbing the tiles toward the other side of the building, before spreading his wings again to flit to the main gates.

The lock clicked before he even touched it, submitting to his will, and he silently walked inside the temple, hiding his wings from sight. The eroded by time and moisture images from the icons greeted him with their empty eyes as he entered the nave and he smirked at the golden curls Gabriel was painted with. _Dad bless the Orthodox Church, the iconographers always put an extra effort into making my brothers look ugly._ He lifted his gaze at the dome, snorting quietly at the mosaic depicting Christ Pantocrator when a sudden movement caught his attention.

A tall man in his early thirties walked backwards through the Holy Doors, muttering something under his breath.

“That’s a sacrilege, you know,” Lucifer stated matter-of-factly, shooting a radiant smile at the human. “Not that it matters to me.”

With a swift move of the hand the man drew out a gun, pointing it at Lucifer’s heart.

“You can’t be here,” he barked at the fallen angel and shot a quick glance at the corner of the nave.

“Oh, don’t let the rumors fool you,” Lucifer purred, taking a few steps back to sit at the Bishops Throne. “There’s no such thing as ground too sacred for me to cross.”

“Who are you?”

“Who do you think I am?”

Swallowing hard with gun still pointed at the Devil, the man mumbled, “You’re the kid’s father.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes, letting out an exasperated huff. “Not exactly. But I _am_ here for him. So… Hand him over and I _might_ show you some mercy.”

“You shouldn’t have come here,” the human grunted, cold menace ringing in his voice. “Now both of you will die.”

“Is he…” Lucifer jumped from the Thronos, dropping the act of composed indifference.

“Oh, no, not yet,” the man shook his head, snorting. “My moronic girlfriend wants to keep him. The idiot even called you... To apologize, of all things!” he sighed with annoyance and furrowed his brows as a sudden thought crossed his mind. “Is this how you found us? I swear, I’m gonna strangle the bitch one day!”

“I know a guy.” The Devil shrugged, narrowing his eyes. “He sort of told me where to find you. Smart move, by the way – this really is the last place I would have searched for you.”

“Who told you?” The man took a step toward the fallen angel, spitting as he shouted. “Tell me who’s the fucking snitch and I’ll kill you quickly.”

“Oh, nice bargain,” Lucifer smirked. “But I’m afraid you’re in no position to demand anything. Though you’re at the right place to ask for absolution.”

“I’m done with you,” the human huffed and pulled the trigger.

The bullet bounced off Lucifer’s chest, then another two hit his head.

“I would have preferred it if you hadn’t done that,” the Devil sighed, stepping closer to his prey. “Now the police will come and ruin all our fun.” Grabbing the gun from the man’s hand, he let the angelic glamour fall off his face. “But don’t worry,” he hummed at the petrified creature. “I’ll still make the best of whatever time we have left.”

_________

“Lucifer!” Peter shouted, bursting in the church.

“Now that was fast.” The fallen angel rolled his eyes in vexation, breaking one last bone, before throwing his hands up in surrender.

“What have you done?” The detective gasped at the sight of the man, crying on the floor, lying in his own piss and blood, with a horrendous halo of teeth around his disfigured head.

“He’s alive, isn’t he?” Lucifer muttered, unabashed.

“Put your hands down!” Peter grunted and waved at the writhing body. “ _How_ did you do that?”

Lucifer shrugged. “Lots of practice.”

“Um… Detective?” a faltering voice, belonging to one of the cops who had stormed the building alongside Peter, called from the entrance and the two men turned around to see Maze waltzing in, covered in blood and playing with something that bore disturbing resemblance to human fingers.

“Where’s the kid?” the demon asked, raising her brows at Lucifer.

“I-I…”

“He’s here.” The delicate figure of a young woman appeared under the iconostasis, pressing a small child to her body. “Please, don’t hurt me!”

Lucifer darted toward her, eyes fixed on the little boy breathing shallowly in silent horror against her chest.

“Dan?” he called, summoning his most soothing voice.

The child mumbled something, wriggling in the woman’s arms and the fallen angel reached to take him in his.

“I’m a nurse,” the woman mumbled, staring at her shoes. “I took good care of him, I swear!”

“Pray that’s true!” Maze hissed at her, counting the child’s fingers and toes. “He seems fine,” she observed after a moment, watching as the toddler buried his face in the crook of Lucifer’s neck.

With a sigh, Peter approached his partner, a small smile of relief, playing on his lips, while his brows remained in a tight knot. “That stunt you pulled off… I’m gonna have to arrest you, sonny. Both of you.”

“But…” Lucifer shot a disbelieving look at him. “You can’t! Dan, he…”

“I’ll take him,” the detective offered and patted the man’s back. “At least until you lawyer up,” he added with a wink.

___________

 

Thirty-six hours and half a million as bail later, Lucifer was kneeling in front of the boy’s crib with a stuffed animal in his hand, while Maze was taking the longest bath known to mankind.

“I wish I knew what you were thinking when you decided to come back,” he murmured at the child, stroking his cheek with his thumb. “You should be mad at me. But I suppose you don’t remember what mad feels like, do you?”

The boy giggled in response, drooling all over his chin.

Lucifer chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re going to be so embarrassed when you remember this back in Heaven.” Wiping the child’s mouth with his pocket handkerchief, he smiled sadly. “I have no idea what I’m doing, Dan. And I can’t promise you I won’t fail you again. But you have my word that I’ll never give up on you. How does that sound for a deal?”

Two smiling grey eyes locked with his, small fingers patting the top of his head. And he felt the corners of his lips curving upwards, despite the fear clenching his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! I hope you enjoyed this story!  
> Oh, no, I'm not done with it yet :D The next work in this series is called Uncle's Little Hellion and our reincarnated baby is no longer a baby :P  
> Thank you for sticking around! ❤


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